


For Those Three Hours

by Mthaytr



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, conqueror of shamballa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mthaytr/pseuds/Mthaytr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are three hours of sun during winter in the North, and Alphonse Elric knows very well who he looks like by firelight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Those Three Hours

**Author's Note:**

> From an anon request on tumblr: Roy/Al, lots of dick riding. I'm not sure how that anon feels about what I delivered XD but here it is anyway!

It was Al who seduced him, not the other way around. 

He reminds himself of this when they are fumbling, sweaty, across unexplored territory, skin bared to the other’s touch. The cold dark of winter presses against the windows -- it is dark for twenty-one hours of the day, here, and so he must gather and savor the light as he can, gather the firelight reflecting off of the boy’s hair and sharpening his features, the warmth of his eyes as he moves to touch Roy for the first time, keep the memory of the sun on his face as he rolled snow into enormous orbs and stacked them atop each other, making a snowman the old-fashioned way. He had sparkled, that day, and when he took off his own scarf and wound it around the snowman’s neck, shoved his own gloves onto the snowman’s skeleton hands, Roy couldn’t help but smile, too, for perhaps the first time since...

Smile, and then recant: he had broken the moment, reminded Al that while his gift was very kind, they were up in the North. And in the North, if you were too kind -- if you cared too much - you would freeze to death. These things he had learned.

Both of them know that the light cast from the hearth outlines the boy’s hair in gold. He knows very well who he looks like, what Roy and Edward had been to each other, knows without ever having to be told. He simply accepted it as fact, slotted the fact properly into his vast compendium of knowledge, right beside _he’s coming back someday_ and _everything’s going to be okay, in the end._

_Roy Mustang loves my brother,_ he knows, the fact both irrefutable and True. He knows it as he strips Roy’s defenses from him one by one, tossed to the floor with each piece of his crumpled uniform. And Roy knows that Alphonse is young, younger than Edward ever was, younger than he has any right to be -- and yet he lies back, watching in bemused wonder as a boy who is not Edward Elric takes his cock in hand, exploring it, smelling and tasting and feeling the weight of it in his hands. His hands are small, absurdly small, for what they can do.

Roy groans, his guilt a faint hum beyond the pleasure that burns in him as that tongue flickers across the head of his hard cock, and he does not push, just frantically clenches at Al’s hair as the boy takes him down.

Alphonse chokes the first time, but is less ambitious on his second try, and it is all Roy can do not to thrust up, to fuck that sweet mouth -- but he can't. He is not the one in control here. He is mesmerized, helpless; some things in the world are constant, and there will never be a day when that golden gaze does not lay him bare.

And Roy touches him, and this is nothing like having his brother -- Edward, all sharp angles and teeth and defensiveness, rough and hard against every surface that will hold their weight -- and Alphonse, downy hair and little noises and gentle guidance, holds Roy’s hand until it stops shaking and then moves it to his entrance. The little, strangled noises, the gasps and sighs he makes as Roy presses a finger in… he’d call them heavenly, but fire will be his only reward for this, if indeed there is someone watching, someone keeping score. 

Mustang works the boy open slowly, gently, the way he never got to with Ed, and by the time Roy deems him ready he is writhing and panting and when Roy takes his fingers out, the boy practically impales himself on Roy’s dripping cock.

A groan, harsh breathing: Al slides down slowly, letting himself adjust to each extra inch. Edward never liked it that way, never wanted to think that maybe Roy cared, took it hard and fast and violent.

But then he’s in all the way, and god it’s good, oil-slick and hot and tight the way he knew it would be, and Al raises himself up again until Roy’s cock almost pops out of him, then slides back down to sheathe him again -- and the long noise he makes as he buries the man inside him is nothing short of _obscene._

Al bites his lip as he rides, his eyes squeezed shut and his face all twisted up and muffled whines struggling from behind closed lips. He increases the pace, his hands spread on Roy’s chest for balance, and Roy does nothing but watch him, studying the faces he makes intently, _ah, this one is like -- this one is so unlike --_

And Al is whimpering now as he picks up the pace, and it is only sheer force of will holding Roy back now, because Alphonse is gorgeous and naked and his hard cock sways between his spread legs with every rise and fall of his body. When Roy reaches out to touch him, he moans his gratitude, and didn’t Edward sound just the same when Roy stroked his cock, so long ago..?

And then the boy comes with a cry across his body, painting them both in the broad strokes of his pleasure as his wanton noises come out shuddering and wrecked.

Roy doesn’t notice the tears until a small hand comes up to wipe them away: the wetness startles him, but Al just smiles, smiles and leans forward and says:

“It’s okay, you know. You can call me whatever you want.”

And Roy whispers

_“Edward,”_ and buries himself in that heat, and that is the end of him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, or were permanently distressed, talk to me! I love to hear from you :)


End file.
